


Traditions, Old and Imaginary

by zarabithia



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Iron Man (Movieverse), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Bondage, Community: dcu_freeforall, Community: fanbingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-26
Updated: 2011-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charming grins and bullshit excuses don't get Bruce very far when it comes to Tony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditions, Old and Imaginary

"Polo," Bruce said, and he gave the widest of grins, as if it explained everything. And to be fair to him, Tony was sure it absolutely had, in times past. Tony easily believed that many a woman - and man - had been confused by the scratches across his chest and back, and Bruce hadn't needed to do anything more than offer his charming grin and his bullshit excuse.

Unfortunately for Bruce, Tony Stark had been dishing out bullshit long before Bruce had even met his first supermodel. _And_ he was a bonafide superhero these days, so he could identify excuses pretty well, too - even if he didn't much bother to make them, pretty much ever.

So he stared at the scars for a minute, rolled his eyes and gave his opinion of the matter. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Excuse me?" Bruce paused in his effort to unbutton Tony's shirt, and Tony considered that his newly discovered personal indignation at being lied to had the most inconvenient timing.

But the widening of Bruce's eyes was a little too practiced and a little too slow to be sincere.

"You need practice lying," Tony explained. "As it stands right now, the only people your particular brand of lie would fool is Gotham reporters, who, let's face it, are not the most unbiased party in the bunch. And not just because they are desperate for any story that doesn't end with 'and the Joker killed some more people today.'"

Bruce's lips thinned, and there was a very noticeable tick in his left shoulder, something that might have resembled a cringe. In retrospect, Tony supposed that a man who gave as much of his money away as Bruce Wayne did to charitable causes in his city probably didn't want to be reminded about the city's flaws.

And so, in an attempt to smooth things over - and to prevent himself from losing a perfectly good lay - Tony continued talking. No matter what Pepper or Rhodey thought, talking always got Tony out of trouble. Well, usually. "I mean, that's probably part of it. Probably a big part of it, actually. You know, maybe when Fury gets around to actually setting up his Avengers, he could make headquarters here in Gotham. Scare away all the creeps. Maybe even that Bat fellow, who, let's face it, is not that far from the Joker on the creep scale."

"Ask me why I should care?" Bruce asked, in the very same manner of "not caring" that Pepper did the last time Tony had asked her opinion on which lingerie set would be more appropriate to send as a combination thank you/I'm sorry/you-looked-really-good-on-the-runway-last-week gift.

Well, to be fair - and Tony was a big believer of being fair in the bedroom - that could have been a perfectly normal reaction for Bruce Wayne, when it came to too much small talk before the orgasms.

That... had been a normal reaction for Tony, once upon a time. Before he'd become a superhero, of course. But things were different these days. A superhero had to enjoy conversation about important things. Or so Pepper and Rhodey kept telling him.

But point being, Wayne's pissiness was perfectly expected spoiled rich boy behavior. "You should care because this idle chatter you don't care about is part of the whole superhero shtick that is, no doubt, the reason you invited me up here in the first place."

Wayne grinned then, and his hand began working up Tony's shirt again. Tony waited, with the same mix of irritation and anticipation he'd regularly felt since the little incident that had made him the superhero in question, until Bruce's hand rand reached a certain spot on his chest.

"I certainly can't say I've ever bagged a superhero before," Wayne agreed.

"Which is why I'm here. And while I have no problem in accepting my role tonight as another notch in your bedpost - which is rumored to be quite an impressive bedpost, by the way, if not quite as impressive as mine - "

"Stark." The hand curled into half a fist against Tony's chest, an act of frustration that Tony's ego definitely appreciated.

Through the haze of ego boosting, Tony did recognize that those fingers were awfully calloused, in a way that didn't make sense for all the billionaire playboys who weren't also genius inventors with labs inside their own homes.

Which brought Tony right back to his point.

"What I'm saying, Wayne, is that I have no problem being used. Let's be honest, I'm not exactly fucking you for your brain, am I?"

"You're not? I was so sure that's what all the pretty notches I bring up here were after."

"Hate to burst your bubble, but no. You might not be a superhero or a cover girl, but Bruce Wayne does come with a reputation."

"Ah, _mutual bedpost_ notching. How very enlightened of us."

"It's very twenty-first century of us," Tony agreed. "Except for the part where you're trying to pass those scars off as having come from polo. Which is, as I previously established, complete bullshit."

"Polo is a very dangerous sport," Wayne argued solemnly, and for a moment, Tony wondered if Pepper had permanently damaged his brain through her various and repeated appeals to his conscience, because he never used to get this aggravated when the pretty conquests-to-be had the brain power of a half-dead tuna fish.

But then, Wayne leaned back on the bed, revealing all those muscles that he really didn't need to play polo, and Tony was certain that Pepper hadn't permanently damaged his ability to have fun, after all, because he was perfectly capable of seeing what a fantastic sight that was.

"Look, if you like it rough, just say so," Tony said, a bit impatiently.

" _Rough_? Oh, you could definitely say that," Wayne admitted.

"Was that so hard? Now, let's try to be more specific. Don't hold back on my account."

"But I wouldn't want to risk offending your delicate superhero sensibilities."

" _Please_. We both know my reputation, and we both know there's nothing you could even _imagine_ that I haven't done. So what's the kink? You obviously like to be on the receiving end, and there are the signs of bruises and cuts. So, I figure at bare minimum, we have spanking and knife play kink, right?"

"Sounds about right for a good night for me," Wayne agreed.

"Not even the top twenty kinkiest nights of my life," Tony said dismissively. "What else you got? Is that a burn scar? Knew a boy into that. Well, okay, a _man._ Well, _legal-aged_ boy."

"I tell you what. How about, since you are obviously the more _experienced_ one, I just lay back and let you direct the show. Show me what _you've_ got. Maybe I'll get a brand new kink out of it."

"I'm always happy to be the teacher," Tony answered. "Pick a safe word, Wayne."

"Pickles."

"Okay. Haven't heard that before."

Wayne shrugged. "What? They're nasty."

"Good a reason as any for a safe word. Lay back and prepare to have your mind blown, Wayne. Well, and other parts."

Wayne rolled his eyes, but he followed the instructions. In fact, Tony discovered, he followed instructions pretty well. It worked rather nicely for Tony, once Wayne was bound to his bedpost with expensive silk ties that always looked ten times better on a person's wrists than on one their neck.

If their activities never quite sated Tony's question about the callouses on Wayne's hands - well, Tony was more than used to ignoring internal doubt. When that doubt got in the way of something as nice as a squirming Bruce Wayne, Tony was happy to continue the tradition.


End file.
